


Will of the Force

by arbitrarylimitation



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitrarylimitation/pseuds/arbitrarylimitation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bechloe StarWars AU - Pitch Perfect characters mixed into the StarWars universe with a Bechloe endgame. Darker tone than is usual for either setting, but the goal is overall positive feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will of the Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. So, [@bechloe-beatchell](http://tmblr.co/mr_g9U2ZnZDSyOfI9HIBpEw) shared [this](http://bechloe-beatchell.tumblr.com/post/138258972957/anna-kendrick-as-a-sith-villain-for-redlance-and) glorious image which lead to … well, whatever that _is down there. It’s a bit on the darker side and a bit on the introspective side, but it’s meant to set some tone and lay in some ideas. Also, this was largely conceived before the companion image was shared, which is why it’s so focused on Darth Mitchell here. Further, keep in mind that I like to try to fit my fics into canon (whatever_ that _is) as neatly as possible. That’s just how I roll, it’s whatever._

She had never wanted to come to this place.  
She had never wanted to become a Jedi.  
She had never wanted any of _this_.

Her father, ever the one for politics and prestige, was beside himself when the consulars came calling from the Jedi Temple. Word would, without doubt, spread quickly through the chambers of the Galactic Senate; he was a _senator_ , after all. Perhaps the whispers would even reach the ears of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, who was known to be close to the enigmatic Jedi. That would be a very good thing _indeed_.

Of course he had accepted the _honor_ of his daughter training in the ways of a Jedi. His wife had left him when his career had filled all of his time and attention. She took with her their child; it was clear where the man’s loyalty and concern truly resided. When she succumbed to illness and the care of the young girl fell to him, it complicated his otherwise comfortable life. _Of course_ he had accepted the _honor_.

The Jedi were thrilled to take in one with such potential.

It never occurred to the senator, or anyone else, to ask this young girl what she might want to do with her own life.

She had never wanted _this_.

Those words, the reminder of what little choice she ever had been given, became the mantra that drove each swipe of her lightsaber. The blade that once shone cerulean, bright and pure, was now tainted with the life of more than a handful of Jedi, stained sanguine with her own forfeit existence.

These were the words whispered to the trail of corpses left in her wake. _I never wanted to come here. I don’t want to be here. I never wanted this._

She stalked with purpose through the halls of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Soon enough this place would be no more. This great prison would fall and take with it the life whose burden she bore. The genesis of that eventuality played out elsewhere in the immense structure whose depths she now explored. Her own instructions were clear.

_We must ensure the very idea of the Jedi is scrubbed from the consciousness of the Galaxy. There must be no record left behind. Still, what was once known to the Jedi must be then known to the Sith. This is why you will seek out the Archive and collect the knowledge stored therein. Fill this holocron with the secrets of our fallen friends, my apprentice._

_That was a clever choice of words_ , she thought. Fitting for her in particular, no doubt selected with great care and consideration. For all their theatrics and grandeur, the Sith could wield subtlety like a scalpel when a moment presented itself. In the end, betrayal marked the truth of the Sith far more clearly than any other quality. In the end, her betrayal marked the truth within herself all too clearly, and reminded her that a similar fate was always lurking just out of sight.

 _Always two there are; no more, no less. A master and an apprentice._ The words of Master Yoda came to her mind unbidden, and it brought a bitter laugh to her lips. It was fitting that her distrust was founded upon that complex structure of support embedded in the Jedi way. She had learned of the _Rule of Two_ before her own dark master had repeated the already familiar concept, albeit with less eloquence.

Those same words, echoed through the years of her training and experience, skipped from her tongue and between her lips with a calm surety that brought a chill to the stilling heart of her former master. _Always two there are; no more, no less._ Only the violent hiss of her lightsaber blade gave any response to the claim as the body slumped under its own weight, the weapon offering no resistance as it cut carelessly through now empty flesh and bone. The math was quite simple and she had borne witness to its reality in more ways than she cared to recall.

_There already had been two and any others have fallen as suddenly as they had risen._

The Archives, her destination, were empty as anticipated upon her arrival. The quiet in the place was unsettling. Nothing like the sounds in her memories of being in this very chamber, seated at that terminal, just there. It felt dead, filled with ghosts. _Not so far from the truth_ , she thought.

The holocron cube fit snuggly into a receptacle at the side of the terminal and she nimbly interfaced with the system to begin her work. She watched as countless eras of Jedi history and knowledge poured into a device she could hold in the palm of her hand. She watched as the great machine accepted her final command and purged itself of its own existence, becoming a simple shell of bits and pieces. Physical, present, but empty of anything one might consider meaning or identity.

The chamber darkened with the death of its purpose.

Commotion echoed through the archway leading out of this place, still distant but near enough for concern. _The order has been given; the purge has begun._ The thought brought a tightness to her chest as she stood from the terminal and walked through the archway, away from what would soon be a memory.

The path to her ship remained free of complications, though the din of conflict grew as she neared her point of egress. She could feel the encounter unfolding in the shadows of her mind, as the sound of fleeing footsteps echoed in their approach.

Before she could consider it further, crimson light bathed the corridor and she was a blur of motion.

Deep within herself, she knew the futility in fighting against what was to come. She understood the breadth and depth of planning which had gone into this purge. She knew of the legends of the one to bring balance to the Force.

If only the Jedi could see what that really meant. If the Rule of Two was held true, balance could only come in one form.

Blood.

The pool of blood at her feet grew slowly as it threatened to stain the tips of her dark boots. There was not usually any blood. That was the secret of the lightsaber. The secret stowed away in what she had heard called _an elegant weapon_ on more than one occasion. Elegant. Certainly, it would appear so. When one’s robes and hand remain free from the stain of blood for so long, it is simple to deceive one’s self into the notion that their work was _elegant_.

The blade of her lightsaber disappeared into its hilt, dangling from fingertips in her loose grip.

It should have meant something, the vibrant red hair on the head of this girl at her feet. It was there, in the back of her mind, like an itch. It was important.

Droplets of blood, her blood, played a quiet but perceptible melody as they fell from fingers which refused to acknowledge their owners requests for action. The pool of blood was considerably larger and seemed to be growing at an alarming rate.

Lightsaber wounds did not bleed, she knew this fact quite well.

The metallic clatter of her lightsaber hilt hitting the floor echoed through the otherwise quiet corridors in which she stood.

Knife wounds, on the other hand, bled viciously when placed just so. She could feel it now, slipped between two ribs, just under her arm. The numbness was disconcerting. The searing flames of agony were alarming.

The manner in which her vision swam before her, distorted and blurry, was unfamiliar.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been busy barfing ideas for an overly complex and ambitious Bechloe Harry Potter AU epic into a Google Doc and this sort of took over. This is also complex and ambitious. I mostly needed to get this out of my head so the rattling would die down a bit. I hope you enjoyed this little snippet and maybe in the future there will be moooooore. I really like these insane crossover AU stories, but I also like them to be stories _in their own right, with beginnings and ends and middles and the like._


End file.
